


The McSkeppy Fic

by Anonymous



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Bondage, Cannibalism, Consensual Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dismemberment, Drug Use, M/M, Medical Procedures, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Skeppy wants to be cut up and fed to people. Bad helps him get what he wants.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28
Collections: Fanfic Anonymous





	The McSkeppy Fic

Skeppy sat in the cold metal chair he had been tied to. Coarse ropes bit into his wrists and ankles as he strained against them, not struggling to escape, but desperate for any bit of stimulation to keep his mind from racing. Frigid air prickled his bare skin all over. 

He flinched as a loud crash of metal against concrete shattered the silence. Though the room was dim he could see the faint outline of a shadow stretching across the wall he was facing. Foot steps soon lashed at his ears, barely audible over the squeak of misshapen cart wheels. 

The room was set into darkness again briefly before he was left squinting against a blinding lamp that had been shoved in his face. When his eyes adjusted to the light he saw someone familiar was hunched over the cart he had heard earlier, their back facing him. He knew who it was only because of the plans they had arranged before he had wound up in this place, and given the circumstances he would not rather have it be anyone else. 

Bad peered at him over his shoulder. Just the sight of the older man's long bangs and bright green eyes made him feel a little more at ease. Though no words were spoken he seemed to ask a question as his hands tinkered with whatever instruments he had come prepared with. Skeppy nodded slowly and hummed against the bandana in his mouth, letting him know he was still certain he wanted to proceed.

The surgeon curtly nodded back before turning away from him again. In what must have been under a minute he turned around to face him fully. The ravenette let his eyes screw shut. He felt as though he would break already even without being touched. 

A hand that he recognized as belonging to his friend gripped his ankle. He let out a deep exhale, calmed down the tiniest bit by the familiar touch. The harshness of the back storage room seemed to fade. Memories of lazy Saturdays spent with his best friend flooded his mind. He almost struck up a conversation with the other man before remembering the gag in his mouth when he pressed his lips together. 

He curiously glanced down at what the surgeon was doing. He was met with the sight of a syringe so shocking in size that it made him swallow. The only medical instruments like it he had seen in person were used to deliver his annual flu vaccines, which were only a little longer than his index finger. This one was nearly the length of his forearm and filled with something the color of rust. 

The grip on his shin tightened for a moment before searing pain erupted through every part of him. He felt himself jerk against his restraints, unable to keep himself still. The rope was the only thing that prevented Bad from getting a swift kick to the nose. 

A split second later Skeppy was panting in the metal seat, still vibrating with the shock of the pain. He opened his eyes just in time to see the needle slip out of his calf. A thin trickle of fluid seeped from the wound left by the puncture. 

"I thought it wasn't supposed to do that", the younger man muttered, words muffled by the piece of cloth wrapped around his chin. Bad paid him no mind, either not knowing or not caring about what he had said. He tried to get a glimpse of the other man's face to gauge his reaction, but saw nothing but a blank expression as if he were doing something typical. 

As his friend turned back towards the cart Skeppy tried to press his ankles against the ropes again only to find that he could not move his legs. When white fabric drooped onto his skin he discovered that he could not feel them either. He expected that, but it still disoriented him to not have control over the lower half of his body. 

Bad spent so much time occupied with the cart that Skeppy allowed his mind to wander. His head was filled with daydreams of people lined up out the door to taste him. His flesh seared on a grill, well done meat placed between two buns and fed to strangers. So good that countless people were willing to pay money just for a chance to try him. 

He was jolted out of his fantasy by the screech of metal scraping metal. The next thing he saw was the blade of a cleaver prodding just below his knee. He watched with excitement, pulse quickened with anticipation as the blade pressed against his skin, sinking deeper and deeper into the softness of his leg before the skin finally broke. He saw Bad bite his lip, a subtle crack in his clinical facade. 

The knife pressed more firmly. Redness oozed down Skeppy's tan skin, seeing the gore more than feeling it. Pink tissues came into view as the tool separated more and more flesh from his body. The cleaver halted as it hit something sturdy, likely his bones. The surgeon shifted his hand to the back of his knee before suddenly swiping through his leg and out the other side. 

Skeppy screamed against the gag. Even with the anesthetic it felt as though he had been sawed in half- and he more or less had been. He heard his friend moan quietly under him, green eyes now hooded. A shape moved under the older man's mask as if he were licking his lips. 

Without warning Bad grabbed his remaining calf and roughly hacked at his limb, attempting to break it with blunt force instead of the careful sharpness he had used earlier. His hits were sloppy and not very accurate, a stark contrast to the collected figure he had been just minutes ago. 

Skeppy whimpered with every strike, covering the other man's grunts as he treated the other like a piece of meat. His maimed thigh thrashed frantically, no longer restrained against the chair leg. Blood pooled beneath him, staining the plastic mat and the majority of the surgeon's clothes with his fluids. 

The deranged knife wielder continued to work until the last bit of flesh finally snapped, leaving two detached limbs laying on the floor. Bad let the tool clatter to the ground, using his hands to instead grab his friend's thighs and stroke them as if he were marinating him with seasoning. 

The younger man's arms were finally untied, though he did not move much. As soon as the bandana was no longer around his face his mouth was instead covered by the surgeon's, enveloped by a kiss that was all teeth and bite. A coppery taste spread over his tongue, fluid that soaked onto the surgical mask transferred back into him. He swallowed the mixture of the other man's spit and his own blood, letting it trickle into his belly as if it were the highest nourishment. 

He looked into the surgeon's eyes, seeing his own reflection stare back at him through the haze of bliss in the emerald orbs. He felt hands roam over his body, from his back to his hips to his thighs which yearned to be maimed like the other parts of him. Bad's face slipped out of sight as he lowered his mouth to his neck. 

"You taste so good already", his friend murmured against his skin. "Once you get in the oven everyone within a hundred miles will want you". Delicate fingers traced lines into his stomach like grill marks. "Too tasty to resist. Just perfect for sinking teeth into". 

Skeppy knew he was right. He could not wait until all his promises became real.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tweet. Bad seemed on board with it in the replies.  
> https://twitter.com/Skeppy/status/1345565272556466176


End file.
